The Five Year Plan
by SilentG
Summary: AU I guess slight future fic about the end of their partnership. Eames thinks her heart is breaking, but Goren has a plan. Features Know-it-all!Jealous!Insecure!Scheming!Alex, & Plan-y!Bobby. Now 3 parts and COMPLETE.
1. MANAGEMENT MATERIAL

**Author:** SilentG  
**Title:** The Five Year Plan  
**Fandom:** LO:CI  
**Pairing:** B/A  
**Rating:** T  
**Spoilers:** Nope.  
**Archive:** Anywhere – no need to ask – just attribute, and let me know if possible  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine  
**Summary:** AU (I guess) slight future fic about the end of their partnership. Eames thinks her heart is breaking, but Goren has a plan. Features Know-it-all!Jealous!Insecure!Scheming!Alex, & Plan-y!Bobby. Probably 2 parts. 

**A/N 1:** There are so many fics where Goren is insecure, jealous and scheming; I think Eames wears it well too.

_____

**CHAPTER ONE: MANAGEMENT MATERIAL**

Eames had to hand it to her, she'd only stumbled once.

In the SUV, with Eames driving and Special Agent Churillo in the back seat, she'd let slip an ever-so-slightly disparaging comment about Eames. Goren had been in profile, facing Eames while he gestured energetically to punctuate his excitement at a break in their case (a break announced by Churillo, but brokered by Eames, not that he – um, anyone – noticed). "That's another thing we have in common, Robert: I get my partner to drive, so that I can have time to think. _From each according to his gifts_, or so they say."

The change in Goren's face was subtle, and she only saw half of it, but give credit where it's due; Churillo instantly changed tacks, soothing Goren with faint praise about his partner before he could voice his own contradiction. What would he have said, she wondered? 'I like Eames to drive so that I can look at her,' or maybe, 'I need my hands free to take dictation.' More like, 'She's the senior partner, so she gets to choose,' or – since he's so perceptive – 'Where _did _that lead come from, Churillo?'

"Marx." They both stared at her, Goren with his gormless expression and Churillo looking a little weedy.

"Pardon?" Give Churillo that too, she read people really well. She'd had Eames's number from the get-go, and she always knew when she was being addressed in a conversation.

"It was Marx. Who first said what 'they' said," Eames stated, trying not to stammer over her resentment. The warm look Goren gave her salved her affront ever so slightly.

**---**

It had been a tits-up from the start, Eames thought. It was right there on Churillo's face, the second she walked into the bullpen at Major Case. The tall, fit but oh-so-curvy FBI agent with the long dark hair had taken one look at Goren and thought, _mine_, and then glanced at his partner and thought, _tiny, defensive, and in love with a man who'd never be satisfied with 102lbs of coiled spring._ Eames watched her eyes turn soft and sultry; watched as she stood so close to Goren that their chests almost touched; watched while Goren lapped it up.

The flirting had started immediately and emphatically, and Eames – who attended Goren's every word, gesture and expression with subtle fervour – was sure he was just doing his 'being polite, passing the time, greasing the wheels' brand of devastating charm, until Churillo began describing opportunities at the FBI, and Goren responded with obvious interest.

"You're _not_ too old, Robert," she murmured, insinuating herself between the two partners and resting her hand on his shoulder. _If only SHE could touch Goren's shoulder in casual intimacy like that – without dislocating something or 'murmuring' into his elbow._ They were on the way to the morgue, where even Rodgers had commented on how nice it was that 'finally' Goren had 'met someone' with whom he had the possibility of 'a future'. Yup, Churillo had a future, alright. 10+ years of fertile eggs and a juicy job to dangle in front of – someone who responded to dangling. Eames guessed that meant that she herself was Goren's past? His long, messy, painful, complicated past.

"I know for a fact the Bureau's still interested," Churillo said, with a tiny smile that said, _as am I_, "And I also know you could pretty much write your own ticket." Eames felt a little sick at how hopeful Goren looked, gazing at the woman he barely had to dip his head to look into the eyes of. "They'd love to have you at Quantico, Robert, but you could make the New York Field Office your home base if you liked. I'm going to be spending a lot of time there myself."

"Do you work for the Computer Crimes Squad, or recruitment?" Eames snapped. Churillo swivelled her head and pointedly looked down, and Goren stared at her like he'd forgotten she was there.

Churillo shrugged elegantly. "Some people asked me to put in a word. But I didn't agree to do it until I saw you for myself." She'd spoken to Goren, who looked like it was Christmas in July.

Bobby's face was soft and vulnerable. "I – uh, don't have that many years before mandatory retirement age, um, Lucy, and I don't really think I'm management material."

"Call it a five-year plan, Robert. We should get together and discuss it."

**---**

Now, five days later, Eames was sitting curled up in the middle of her bathtub, finally giving in to the urge to cry. That get-together had clearly happened, because right after they'd driven Churillo to the airport in the SUV – _'Oh hello, Detective Eames… I didn't realise you two were on duty. I thought maybe I'd get another ride in that beautiful car of yours, Robert.'_ Not on your life, sister; it was a work-related errand that they would _both_ make, in the City's car – stumbling and stammering and gesturing pathetically, Goren had told her he'd decided to move to the FBI.

That was earlier today, and Eames had lurched, hiding her mortal wounds, through the rest of the day, thinking only of the refuge of her current location, and of trying to steep the hurt and grief out of her with almost scalding-hot water.

The pain was almost unbearable; not only losing the most important person in her life – her partner, her friend, the man she loved – but the galling fact that someone younger, prettier, more accomplished, who'd more artfully integrated her femininity with her work persona, had just slipped in, taken his hand, and now, after only a week, was leading him away.

It was while she was sobbing pitifully in the rose-scented water that she heard the knock on her door. _Bobby_, she thought, _come to try to smooth things over._ As much as she wanted to see him, she wouldn't let him in – she was too raw and vulnerable. He'd realise in a second how she really felt, and that would be unbearable. She sat silently, listening as the knock came a couple more times, then silence. Moments later, as she sat scrubbing herself with a loofah, she heard a key in the lock.

_____

**A/N 2:** I have Chapters 8, 10 and 11 of _The Sensual World_ written, but I want to get Chapter 9 done before I post. More of _Will they or won't they_ is coming too.


	2. A CHALICE OF STOICISM

**A/N 1:** No chapter spoilers, but a paraphrase of a famous line from Erin Brockovich. The second half is as fluffy as the first half was angsty. Also, I thought this was going to be a two-parter, but so many people have reviewed and PM'd, desperate for an update, that I thought I'd post what I know is done. One more chap after this.

_____

**CHAPTER TWO: A CHALICE OF STOICISM**

"Go away, Bobby." She was proud of how steady her voice was, considering that the pieces of her broken heart were kind of stuck in her throat.

"Al – um, Alex… I know it's late, but, I – I was hoping we could, uh,…"

She found herself weakening. Was it hope? Curiosity? The fact that he used her first name? Or just her general wimpiness when it came to this wonderful, infuriating, _wonderful_ man. She wanted to be MAD!! But instead, she could feel her nipples tightening, the tense muscles around her mouth softening, a little thrill working its way up her spine. _He was here_. He'd used his key, had ignored her petulant demand, was even now pacing impatiently (she could hear the floorboards squeaking) outside her bathroom door.

She was reminded of their first case after he'd come back from suspension. How shocked, how furious yet turned on and girlishly yielding she'd been when he'd refused to go along with her shrill insistence that they work a case separately. How angry she'd been at herself when she realised that _now, when it was too late_, after he'd ignored her for five months… now, he was fighting for her. And she was falling for it.

Except it wasn't too late. Not then, and not now apparently, she mused, noticing that she was already out of the bath and patting herself down. Rose body lotion was apparently to be applied, and the wet tendrils of hair around the back of her neck dabbed at but otherwise left alone to curl alluringly around her nape.

He must have heard the water draining, because he'd left his post by her door.

**---**

Alex towelled off the mirror and stared at her reflection. She was wearing her bright white, ultra-fine Chinese silk pyjamas, her comfort clothes. She wore them every year on both her anniversaries with Joe (their wedding and his death), on Nate's birthday, on New Year's, and now today. They didn't look it, but they'd cost $400 back when Joe died. She hadn't realised for the longest time what they represented to her, until she sat down with Nathan to watch Star Wars. The stark simplicity of Princess Leia and her pure white battle cruiser. Good vs Evil. No drama, no tears. Just action served neat, in a chalice of stoicism.

She leaned in and examined her face. Her red nose and puffy eyes would be a dead giveaway; how to avoid talking about it? Aloof, slightly hostile, with a touch of off-putting sulkiness is how Leia would play it. "Some rescue," she said to her reflection to get into character.

**---**

Bobby was still pacing, but over by her dining nook. He was impeccably dressed in her favourite suit, wearing a white shirt and a dark red tie (also her favourite). He was playing with the ends of his tie and staring at his feet as he paced. He'd taken his shoes off. Alex felt her hungry eyes fed by the sight of him, and a dangerous feeling of hope and peace threatening to soften her too much. He mustn't know how she felt! When he looked up she hastily looked past him, to the dining table his big body mostly blocked.

The table was set for one. There was a gold helium balloon with gold ribbons tied to her chair. A plate with a single truffled chocolate cupcake from Magnolia's (again, her favourite), and a bud vase with one red rose.

"Alex, the – our – conversation, didn't… it – I didn't say, I mean, it, uh, it came out wrong."

"Oh," she whispered, "Did you mean to say that you were staying forever because you couldn't imagine not working with me?"

"No," he said, not noticing her wince, "I'm definitely leaving. But I, uh, never, I mean I…"

She felt tears burning once again behind her eyes. A change of tactics was in order. "What are we celebrating? She groused. "Your new job? Our last day as partners?"

"Actually, I, uh, it – the, we – it was, uh, something else," he finished lamely.

"Are you ever going to say another complete sentence?" She asked acerbically.

He just smiled and looked at his shoes. "Maybe," he mumbled.

He pulled out the chair for her and she sat. He resumed pacing, but when she looked pointedly at him, arms crossed, he sighed and perched on the edge of the seat next to hers.

"You're eating this with me," she said.

"Uh, no, I'm still off sweets." He patted his stomach and looked down self-consciously.

_I hadn't noticed_, she said. No, thought. "I think you look good," was what she said. Crap! She attacked the cupcake with her fork to cover her embarrassment. "Well, you have to at least taste it. It's bad luck otherwise." A total lie, but whatever. Anything to regain control of the conversation.

He pursed his lips. "Alright," he said diffidently.

Alex felt awkward, eating while he watched her, his quiet, penetrating gaze moving between her hands and her mouth. She tried to discreetly shrug her shoulders and slouch so that her diamond-hard nipples wouldn't show too much through the thin silk of her pyjamas. The confection was delicious; soft and creamy and sweet and a tiny bit bitter, pretty much the way her insides felt right that moment. Finally, the last bite was on her fork. She waved it at him, arching her eyebrows. He pressed his lips tight and dodged her like a little kid.

"Don't you care about bad luck?" She asked ironically. He just smiled, so she rolled her eyes and ate it herself.

It happened so fast, she didn't have time to react or even think of reacting. The instant she'd swallowed, he was on his knees beside her chair with his tongue in her mouth.

She wanted to tell him to get off her. She wanted to tell him it was too late. She wanted to tell him that if this was his idea of courtship, he sucked at it. She wanted to be MAD! Instead, she found time stopping as she marvelled at the warm hardness of his shoulders, the warm softness of his lips. The hurt, broken places in her heart started to heal, making her chest itch. Rubbing it against Bobby seemed to help.

She discovered that Bobby made soft, sexy noises in the back of his throat when he kissed. She discovered that she did too. Eventually, her fingers got tired feeling every single part of his body she could reach, so she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. This started up a whole new set of little noises from Bobby while he tightened his hold around her waist. Having finally thought of something to say, Alex squeaked and drew back from him.

"Delicious," Bobby pronounced before she had a chance to speak.

"What?" She said breathlessly.

"The cupcake," he said, smiling. He kissed her again. "And you," he murmured.

Alex forgot what she was going to say.

"I thought," he said breathlessly as he manhandled her awkwardly over to her sofa, "That I could work out of the NY Field office," he mumbled into her mouth, "And we could…"

"Mmhm, mmhm," she said enthusiastically against his lips, "We could."

_____

**A/N 2:** I can totally picture a teenage Goren dressing as Han Solo to impress the ladies. Of course I never liked Han Solo, but then I don't really like Goren lol. And for all the people who just had a short sharp shock, to explain myself, I like Goren and Eames together. They're so much a unit to me that I can't even think of them as individuals. I just _pray_ that the powers that be at NBCU feel the same. :-s

**WORDS: ****1365**** POSTED MARCH 15, 2010**


	3. WHISKER BURN

**A/N 1:** Here it is, the much-awaited rude awakening of Churillo!

_____

**CHAPTER THREE: WHISKER BURN**

The first time Bobby's cell phone buzzed, he was laying half on top of Alex on her sofa, kissing her enthusiastically. It tickled her inner thigh where she'd wrapped her leg around his hip. She laughed, partly from the sensation and partly from the sheer joy of where they were and where they were undoubtedly going.

The second time, Bobby had his hand up under her pyjama top, caressing her while she cooed encouragingly into his mouth. He grunted and dug the offending item out of his pocket, flinging it carelessly onto the floor before reaching back into her night-clothes. "Bobby, what if it's work," she said, laughing again at his single-mindedness. He was even more wonderful up close, with a warmth and glint in his brown eyes that she'd never seen before; his lips, moist and swollen from their kisses, beckoned her.

"It's not," he growled, settling himself over her again.

When _her_ cell rang, they'd temporarily left off making out in favour of a much-needed chat: about the past few days, about the future.

**---**

_~ I thought you were sick of me._

_~ I'm not sick of you! I just thought – that I couldn't – court you, properly, while we were working together._

**~...~**

_~ I knew that I'd blown it…_

_~ What?_

_~ The way I told you about – my plan… but, it took me a while to figure out how to fix it._

_~ So did tonight go more according to plan?_

_~ Better. More kissing._

**~...~**

_~ You were… crying, tonight._

_~ I thought I was losing you._

_~ You could – never – lose me… I – I love you, Alex._

**---**

"Hello?" Alex listened for a second, then sighed. "Yes, he is, just a moment." She handed her phone to Bobby. "It's Special Agent Churillo."

He looked at her in panic. Alex shrugged. She handed him the phone and lay back down next to him, smirking.

Alex listened to Bobby's awkward, stilted monosyllables with ill-concealed glee, now that she knew he didn't want the woman on the other end of the phone. She still had an irrational urge to push the smug Special Agent's pert little nose in, but forced herself to be magnanimous. Until the end of the call, when it became clear that the irritating hussy was returning to New York and expected to see Bobby.

"Um…" he looked at Alex in dismay. "Yeah, um, I guess tomorrow is OK." _Tomorrow_ was Saturday, and they had plans, dammit! Alex hadn't yet told Bobby what they were, but… she could tell by his unhappy face that he'd come up with a similar plan.

He snapped the phone shut to end the call. "What time is she arriving?" Alex asked.

"Late morning. She wants to take me around the NY Field Office. Can… can you come too?"

"Try and stop me."

**---**

Alex sat in the driver's seat of Bobby's car on the arrivals level at LaGuardia, waiting for him to return with Special Agent Churillo. Staying behind was a strategic move on her part, but it also allowed her to daydream a bit about the rest of her evening with Bobby.

She stroked the whisker burn on her chin feeling very naughty and very petty. She didn't know what had come over her after that unwelcome phone call – it had evinced in her not only an unaccustomed wave of possessiveness, but also an irresistible urge to stake her claim on Bobby physically.

After he'd told her what Churillo's plans were, they'd lain back on the sofa with their legs entwined, but Bobby had been subdued and deflated. In mood _and_ body, which had made Alex very happy actually, considering the source. But she'd been determined to restore both.

When she'd tugged on his shoulder to pull him down on top of her, he'd yielded easily, and he'd groaned and flexed his body over hers when she began nuzzling and sucking his earlobe and the exposed tenderness of his throat. Tender but for the hours worth of stubble, which was already evident and nicely rasped her lips and chin. By the time she'd applied herself to marking him with her mouth, he'd been hard and urgent, thrusting himself against her and groaning into her hair.

Bobby had told her he wanted to take things slow, poor boy. No hope of that now. She'd tugged on his shoulders again to urge him down to her level, so she could nip and suck on his lips to bruise and chafe them the way his whiskers had hers.

She smiled, imagining what must be going through Churillo's mind right now, the unwelcome sight of Bobby's beestung lips, tired eyes and lovebitten skin staring her in the face.

There they were, actually. Bobby carrying her bag for her like the gentleman that he was, her following him a bit uncertainly, no doubt trying to get her legs back under her.

Churillo had another couple of surprises awaiting her… Alex had made sure of that. Last night, when Bobby had bent down to return the attention she'd paid his throat, he had been – again – gentlemanly, moving his lips over her reverently, as if murmuring a poem into her skin. Whimpering, she'd arched against him while wrapping a leg around his waist, and he'd instinctively begun to suck and nibble her throat. To urge him on further, she'd made a desultory attempt to dissuade him, shaking her head and pushing ineffectually at his shoulders as if to shove him away. Which had made him reflexively press his body down on hers and suck harder.

Afterwards, he'd been aghast and apologetic for the vivid marks he'd left on her throat. She'd smiled magnanimously and told him not to worry about it.

When the two got to the car, Alex waved and leaned over to unlock the doors. Bobby opened the front door and helped Churillo into her seat, then got into the back with an ill-concealed yawn. The FBI agent turned in her seat to give Alex a fairly obvious once-over, then turned to Bobby and said, "Tired?"

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, glancing at Alex's reflection in the rear-view mirror.

As Alex pulled out and manoeuvred the car into traffic with obvious relish, Churillo _tsk'd_ impatiently. "You two on duty today?"

"Nope," Alex said, shaking her head. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Churillo eyeing her unhappily, and decided to give her a good look. When they came to a red light, she turned towards the passenger seat and smiled, saying, "Hello, by the way. Nice to see you again, Special Agent Churillo."

The woman being addressed stared for a second at Alex's throat, then nodded perfunctorily and turned to Bobby. "You let her drive your car, Robert?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling. "I, uh, it's fun to watch." He shook his head. "Her drive, I mean. She's, uh, she's really good at it." _Nicely done. _Not his most eloquent speech, but Alex would take it.

"Hmmm," Churillo said. "Robert, have you thought any more about your five-year plan?"

He glanced reflexively at Alex before looking down. "Actually, uh, I – I've already gotten started on it."

_____

**A/N 2:** I don't know if Goren's car is a two- or four-door, but in this fic it's a four-door. Thanks for being so patient for the final part of this fic – I was on a roll with it for a while, but I needed to really think to get back the mood and feel of the fic, and what I had originally wanted to say. Hope you all enjoyed it! If the mood strikes you, please review!

On another note, a reviewer just told me that she found my fic _Hangups_ relevant to her marriage! Wow! Thanks for the review, K8.

**WORDS: 1392 POSTED APRIL 5, 2010**


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